The Exception to the Rule
by Angel Gidget
Summary: A tale of the common people...or is it? Rogue/Gambit theme. Decided from all the reviews, to do a 2nd chapter.
1. A Beginning

Author's Note: I don't read TCP (Tales of the Common People) stories myself. So why am I writing one? It's my muse's fault. She lives off of reviews and was desperate to write something so she could see our work on the site again. At least it's got some Rogue/Remy in it. For those of you who are worried about 'Point of Honesty 2: Missions', me and gothic-rogue haven't forgotten about it. It's just a while in coming is all. And I want to mention that in no way did this fic put it's writing on hold.  
  
Disclaimer:   
I took to drink one night and my mind became fuzzy and sore.  
I decided to take a gamble and lay my X-men on the floor.  
The dice weren't in my favor, and with my X-men, Marvel walked out the door.  
Needless to day, I don't drink or gamble anymore.  
  
  
((The Exception to the Rule)) by Christy S.  
  
  
Diamonds, rubys, emeralds, karrats of gold, worth of silver... I know them all. I   
suppose there are far worse jobs in the world. The idea of flipping burgers in some stuffy   
fast food restaurant makes me grimace, but even a jewelry store can be boring sometimes.   
At least I know the trade. I glance over at the new guy, Tony.  
  
Tony didn´t want to work in the burger biz either. We gave him a crash course in   
necklaces, jewels, and whatnot and set him to work. He´s actually pretty good at   
distinguishing buyers from lookers. That´s the rule, shoo away the lookers, lure in the   
buyers. But, I see that he´s about to make a mistake, and I stop him.  
  
Normally, black jackets, worn trench-coats, and faded jeans mean trouble.   
They´re not always lookers, but troublemakers too. Tony knows this. What he doesn´t know   
it the exception to the rule.  
  
"Hold up, rookie," I tell him. "This is a customer."   
  
"Customer?" He whispers back, "Bennett, you nuts? He´s got `street´ written all   
over him!"  
  
I shake my head and subtly point to the guy´s jacket. "See that insignia? That red   
X?"   
  
"Yeah? Some gang sign. What about it?"  
  
"That´s no gang sign. That´s an institute symbol." I continue at his confused   
glance. "The folks who wear it, dress pretty casual, but whenever one of them comes in, we   
come out a few thousand dollars richer. They go to some fancy school nearby. Strange,   
eccentric people, keep to themselves and everything, but usually polite, and they always pay   
the big bucks."  
  
I watch Tony´s expression change from disdain to something between respect and   
greed. I don´t think any less of him for that last expression. It´s the business.  
  
We glance over at the guy again. He´s taking his time. I smile. I´m a bit of a   
softy and I can´t help but notice that he´s looking at the engagement rings. I can imagine him   
having a girl who´d want him too. The guy´s got looks to kill for. Chiseled features, thick   
auburn hair, slim and muscular build. The funky sunglasses and duster go with the look   
pretty well.  
  
He straightens his posture. He´s ready to purchase. I let Tony handle this one.   
It´ll be good practice for him.  
"How much fo´ dis one?" I see him point to one of our more expensive models.   
Wouldn´t expect any less of him. Diamond, set in emeralds, the gold´s practically solid. I   
watch Tony tell him the price. The Cajun-accented man doesn´t flinch. Success!  
  
"It´ll go wit´ her eyes..." I hear him murmur to himself, "I´ll buy it." Tony´s   
ecstatic by now and trying to hide it. I don´t believe that accadian consumer is fooled for a   
minute. He whips out his wallet and Tony´s floating on clouds. Why shouldn´t he? Not   
everyday somebody comes in and spends half a million in cash.  
  
I can´t help myself. I honestly can´t. I subtly slide over and stand on my tip-toes   
just a bit. I want to see her. As if to grant my wish, he holds the leather money-holder open   
as he pays. There´s a picture of the lady. She´s gorgeous. Great body, long reddish-brown   
hair, white streaked at that--it looks pretty cool, eyes as emerald as the stones in her   
new-bought ring, and her smile is perfect. She looks like she could find joy in anything.   
Even something as simple as touch itself. No wonder these institute guys pay so much,   
their women are absolute babes!  
  
The man leaves with his girl´s ring. Tony prepares to close up shop. I should   
help him, but I daydream instead. Someday, maybe, if I save enough I can go to an institute   
like those X-people. Maybe all their women will be pretty, maybe all their money   
allowances will be big, maybe their clothes will be comfortable, maybe they´ll save the world with all their donations and charities, and maybe they´ll all secretly be mutants like me. "Yeah, right..." I laugh to myself.   
  
Oh, well. Another day in Tony´s training, another year´s worth of money made in   
one night, and another day of hiding who and what I am to the world...  
  
  
For the record, people, I wrote this story to get reviews. Don't let me labor in vain. [ok, so not exactly labor... I did do this in place of my homework....sooo... MAKE IT WORTH IT, GOOD AND FAITHFUL REVIEWERS!] 


	2. Mirrors

Author's Note: I've made as many references as I can to the X-men this chapter, but it's mostly about Bennet. Bennet is a guy, and I'm really sorry if I didn't make it that clear last chapter. I hope this explains a few things about my character, thought I really hadn't expected to take the story further than 1 chapter. So, heres hoping that you enjoy the story of his powers, laugh at all his little misunderstandings. And, if you do these things, that you will review about them.  
  
Disclaimer: I'd like to thank Marvel for giving me the inspiration to come up with a character like Bennet and for temporarily providing Scott Summers, Jean Grey-Summers, Remy LeBeau, and Rogue LeBeau (though I am the one that married the last two off). I'll be sure to give them back when I'm done with them...just in time for the next issue of 'X-treme X-men' to come out. By then, I'll want to borrow them again.  
  
  
((~EXCEPTION TO THE RULE Ch2: MIRRORS~  
by Christy S.))  
  
  
  
  
"Gimme a break, Bennett! Mirrors are for snotty girls!"  
  
That´s what my best friend, Thalia Delaney, said to me in the 3rd grade. Ten years later, she joined some foreign legion. Thalia was always a tom-boy, and she didn´t think much of girls who weren´t.  
  
But despite her criticism, I held a fascination for mirrors. I had a collection of them. That, and pieces of reflective glass. I couldn´t get enough of reflections. Not *my* reflections, per se, but just watching images glint off of one another.  
  
So I went to work in a jewelry store. I loved gems, and there was no way I was going to work in one of those greasy restaurants like most young men my age. It was there that it happened.   
  
A lady had walked into the store one day. Cute red-head. Her and her husband would come in often and buy things for each other. The husband´s a strange one. He´d acts as if he´d blow the house down if he so much as lowered those red shades of his. Another deranged inhabitant of the X-brand Institute.  
  
But anyway, she walked in looking for a watch for the Christmas season. It was that time of the year. I was cold (heater wasn´t working well), distracted (Ever tried to run a jewelry store during the holiday season?), and long past my lunch break (two hours, if I remember precisely).   
  
I was a little busy with one old scrooge who was trying to pay half the mark-down price of a really classy pair of cufflinks, and I didn´t get the chance to tell the lady that the watches she was looking for were right below her line of vision.  
  
It was then that her eyes lit up. She walked over to the other side of the room to the exact same case that had been right under her nose! At least, that´s what it looked like. When walking over, she bumped into the `air´ in front of it. She turned around in confusion and saw the actual case right next to where I was bargaining with the old man. By the time that I glanced up again, she had turned around to see that the `mirror´ that had been reflecting the case, was no longer there!  
  
It was then that I got a funny feeling in the back of my head; as though something strange, and almost painful had flared up, and died back down again. She then turned again and took a long hard look at me. It seemed as though she had felt it too.  
  
I was scared by now, and so I looked away, and finally got the old guy to give a little, and heighten his price. I entered my well-earned bills into the register, and barely so much as blinked when the red-headed lady came up to pay for her husband´s Rolex.  
  
I tried the same stunt back home in my apartment. I nearly scared myself to death when I got it to work. After that, I used my `mirror talents´, as I thought of them, to play a few tricks on my roommate. Once the fun went out of that, I just kept quiet about it. And I´m glad I did.  
  
A few days after I stopped the pranks; me, my roommate, and a couple of his friends were watch the latest document on the Friends Of Humanity. They talked about what a great thing the FOH was doing, how any lowdown person could be some mutant in hiding, and how, if one was ever discovered, they should be slaughtered on sight. After talking about all the different kinds of `mutie scum´ they encountered, I came to realize that the strange things that had been happening to me, put me on that very list.  
  
So now I fear for my life everyday. I worry that the FOH will find me. I worry that my friends will discover my abilities and reject me. I worry that people like that red-headed lady will point me out and expose me.  
  
I envy people like that lady´s husband, who simply worry if the necklace they bought will go with their beloved´s coloring. I envy that old miser, who gripes about the price of his cufflinks being to high. I envy that cajun man, who has a beautiful girl who loves him enough to marry him, and scoffs at the price of a ring.  
  
I envy all those X-institute people, with their limited cares and worries. And I wish every day that I were one of them.  
  
  
  
  
Note: I know I already asked it of you all, but so you remember...REVIEW! 


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